


Primary Reinforcer

by pharis



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pharis/pseuds/pharis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold do some training work with Bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primary Reinforcer

**Author's Note:**

> Set in early season 2. 
> 
> Thank you, tinzelda, bestest of cheerleaders!

“Are you quite sure about this, Mr. Reese?” Harold’s voice was just a touch high. John smiled. Out of his comfort zone.

“Relax, Finch. This is ... aaahh—” John broke off to concentrate on dodging. When Bear beat him—inevitably—and grabbed the sleeve, John used the momentum to swing the dog in a circle while batting at his head with the other hand. Bear completely ignored the light strikes coming at his eyes. John dropped and rolled them over, then lifted his arm as best he could while backing away. Finally, satisfied, John straightened up, dropped the defensive posture, and quietly said, “ _Af_ , Bear.”

Bear pranced and wagged — _Fun, John! Again, again!_ John laughed and dropped to his knees to thump Bear’s ribs and ruffle his fur. “Good boy! _Braaf!_ ” Grinning, John looked up at Harold, nervous at the edge of the ring. “See?”

Once a week, John took Bear to a private training facility to keep his bite work honed. Today was just the lower-level exercises, though. The trainers weren’t available to help out today with the full-body suits, and John didn’t want to do it himself. It wasn’t fair to ask a dog to go into a serious attack mode on his own primary handler. Bear would do it, but he wouldn’t understand.

Besides, John had an ulterior motive. They’d had the dog for almost two months now, and while Harold was becoming more comfortable with him, he interacted with Bear purely as a pet. He used the list of Dutch commands that John had given him, but he had Bear playing with a ball and sitting to shake hands. Fine as far as it went, but if he never went beyond that, Bear would be half useless to him. A pet wasn’t a weapon. John had asked Harold to come today on the pretext of merely seeing some of the more complex moves in action, but he intended to sneak in a little human training as well.

John got up and dusted himself off while walking over to Harold. He pulled off the heavy padded sleeve and held it out to Harold. “Your turn.”

Harold eyed it with distaste. “Oh, I don’t think so, thank you.” John rolled his eyes, but he set the sleeve aside.

“All right, then. We’ll start with some distance work. It’s not his favorite thing, but I think you’ll like it.”

But fifteen minutes of _Staan_ and _Zoek_ left all three of them vaguely frustrated. Harold was too slow with his commands, too tentative. When Bear yawned in anxiety, John called a break. The two men sat on a bench at the edge of the training ring, and John lazily tossed the stuffed canvas lure for Bear to fetch, giving him clicks and treats to put him in a better mood.

“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,” Harold said, a peevish note in his voice. “I’m using the commands, and I know my pronunciation is good.”

“It’s not a _programming language,_ Finch. He’s a person.” Harold eyed him. “Okay, not a human person. But he has needs.”

“Such as?”

Bear returned to John and dropped the lure. His eager posture begged John to throw it again, but he was too well disciplined to do more than nudge it once. John gave him the hand signal for _Sit_ and then threw the lure. Bear quivered, eyes locked on the arc, but he didn’t move.

“He needs to be told clearly what to do.”

“It seems ... impolite,” Harold murmured.

John said crisply, “Bear, _apport_ ,” and the dog was off. He skidded around the lure and grabbed it on the way, tossing his head triumphantly as he ran back to them, the picture of satisfaction. Harold hadn’t gotten that kind of reaction from him once yet.

“He feels secure with a clear command. He wants a job to do for somebody he loves.” Midsentence, John realized what he was saying, but it was too late to change tactics. He kept his eyes on Bear, pretending to check one of his paws for a piece of gravel. He could feel Harold’s gaze, though.

After a moment, Harold gave a thoughtful _hm_. “I’d like to try again, if you don’t mind. Perhaps some of the obstacles, if he’s familiar with them?”

With John’s guidance, Harold walked Bear through a short sequence of activities. It was clear to all three of them that Harold had it now — he and Bear were finally communicating. The commands quickly became more complex and ambitious. He took him through the tunnel backwards, and then twice in a row. Finally, after a bit of coaching, Bear negotiated three obstacles in a row by commands issued through a cell phone strapped to his collar, while Harold stood far out of earshot with his back turned. John shook his head. He wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

Their hour was almost up and Bear was getting tired. He sat primly at Harold’s feet, awaiting orders, but it was clear he wouldn’t argue with any human who suggested it was naptime. John was about to suggest that they wrap things up when Harold gave Bear a quiet command to lie down. Harold picked up the canvas lure and walked toward the climbing wall, half-turning once to make sure John was following him.

“Would you mind helping me with this, Mr. Reese? I’d like to see whether this panel can be removed.” It could, and at Harold’s request, John unbolted it and leaned it against the far side of the frame. What was left was a seven-foot-high open structure, with A-frame bracing at the sides. Harold asked John to wedge the lure firmly in the intersection of the poles.

Returning to Bear, Harold stroked his ears fondly for a moment. Then he pointed to the dismantled climbing wall and gave the command to fetch. John wanted to watch, but Harold gestured him over to a corner where they could still see Bear, but the dog couldn’t easily see them.

His first attempts at simply jumping for the lure were failures; the angle was wrong, and Bear knocked himself against the intervening poles three times before he conceded the point. Then he tried leaping for the crosspiece. He hooked it with his front legs, but his back legs windmilled uselessly and he couldn’t move. When he tried to drop back down, the bar caught under his left elbow, and he yelped pitifully before thumping back to the ground. John started to go to him, but Harold put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“You’re kidding. He’s hurt!”

“Not more than slightly bruised, I think. Give it a moment.” And in fact Bear was up and walking, with a limp that evened out and disappeared within half a dozen strides. He circled the structure twice, head held low, eyeing the target. “He’s thinking.”

Harold leaned back a little with a look of pride and satisfaction when Bear scrambled up the climbing panel at the other side of the frame. With a heave, he got past the bracing pieces and walked along the squared-off pole at the top. Just as his balance started to go, his teeth flashed and he had the lure in his jaws. The fall seemed inconsequential this time, and John let out a breath as Bear jogged back to them.

Harold awkwardly got down onto one knee. After dropping the lure, Bear walked straight into him, butting his head against Harold’s torso and worming under his jacket. He stayed like that for a moment while Harold rubbed his neck and whispered, “ _Braaf_ , Bear. Well done.”

“That was good, Harold.” John helped him to his feet, and together they restored the equipment and gathered their things to leave. Back on the street, he asked, “What made the difference?”

Harold walked a little further before answering. “I was trying to avoid responsibility at first, I think. If I accepted that kind of loyalty from Bear”—the dog looked up at the mention of his name, eyes going soft as Harold glanced back at him—“I would be ... entangled, in a way. If he had really been hurt on that last exercise, it was I who would be culpable.”

John frowned a little. “Then why would you do it?”

“How could I not?” Harold angled awkwardly to look at John for a few steps. “If Bear trusted me to give him a purpose, how could I not ask him to excel? His life may depend on it.”

John nodded. He wanted to reply but had no idea what to say. Nothing seemed to be required, though, and they walked on through the afternoon sunshine. John looked over at Bear, on Harold’s other side, and Bear looked back. He was pacing along serenely, and John would have sworn that dog was smiling at him.

 


End file.
